


Simon Snow Tries His Hand at Keeping Enemies Alive

by pinkpeppermintpatties



Category: Carry On - Fandom
Genre: (I mean it’s even in the summary), Bathing? I guess?, Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Somewhat angsty w happy ending, baz is the hurt one, lots of pining (poor Baz), some blood, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:52:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpeppermintpatties/pseuds/pinkpeppermintpatties
Summary: Baz is hurt, that much is obvious. Simon is inadequate at taking care of himself, let alone someone else. We’ll see how this goes.





	1. Chapter One, Woo!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First work, blah blah blah... idk just don’t be rude (but legit criticism welcomed w open arms). This chapter’s kinda short but oh well!!!

**Simon**  
      One of my favorite times at Watford was the holiday at the end of fall. Reliably nearly everyone goes home to enjoy the last few days of warmth before the winter starts. Don’t get me wrong, I like the hustle and bustle of school but it’s nice to have peace every now and then. The grounds become tranquil and quiet. Although it hasn’t snowed yet, when it does it’s even prettier. The snow stays almost completely untouched for up to two weeks.  
       Holidays are pretty much the only time I’m okay with not having a place to go back to. It means I get to stay at Watford. Almost all the teachers leave as well since they’re not going to be teaching any classes. Only a handful of them stay behind, but I’m pretty sure they draw straws. They’re only here because The Mage insists on always having someone to protect the school present. In theory, I’m supposed to be able to do that by myself but it’s probably better that that responsibility doesn’t fall to me. He entrusts the teachers to do his job but the Mage never stays behind during breaks. But then again, he’s never really at Watford anyway.  
      The best part about breaks are the midnight snack runs. I can only do them at the beginning and end of the year though because it gets too cold to walk from Mummers all the way to the kitchen during the winter. I tried one night in January, even wore all my clothes and my winter coat, but I barely made it ten feet before I turned back. During the winter months I just stockpile food in my room like a squirrel and hope Baz doesn’t find it.  
      I can’t cook. Period. I’d burn the kitchen down (even if I didn’t try to use magic). And Cook Pritchard never stays behind so I can’t even count on some leftovers being in the fridge. That’s why I only ever grab a box of crackers and maybe some grapes. The kitchen is continually stocked with this one brand of cracker that I had in my first care home (probably by magic). They’re by no means the best crackers but they’re still my favorite for some reason. When I first started doing this, I’d bring a plastic bag with me but that was loud. More recently I’ve been using one of Penny’s tote bags. This particular one is from some library. It says “Dive Into a Good Book!” and has an illustration of a person jumping off a diving board into a book. It’s clever. I only stole this one because I know for a fact that she’s got at least twenty more of the exact same kind. Plus this one fits the box of crackers perfectly.  
     I haven’t had the chance to go to the kitchens yet and it’s already day three (or really day four because the clock just struck five past midnight) of holiday. When I open the door to the kitchens, I flip the lights on. Waiting on the stainless steel table is a plate wrapped in plastic with a note on it. The note read:

      _Simon,  
       I know you’re the one raiding my pantry every holiday because no one else I know would dare do that. I’m not mad, in fact, I’m sort of impressed. I don’t know if you try to cook food while I’m away but I don’t want you to ruin my kitchen so I prepared you a snack. Enjoy!_

     The note was signed by Cook Pritchard. I remove the note and plastic from the plate to reveal a heaping plate of her scones. She must be a mind reader. As a rule, I always leave any plates and silverware in the kitchen. It’s too much work to try to smuggle them back when I’m done. I shove the scones in the tote and one in my mouth. I flip off the lights and start my trek back to Mummers.

  
    From the outside, Mummer’s is a terrifying and looming presence. It’s all stone and gothic architecture. In the middle of the night it’s not the most settling thing to look at so I quickly head inside. I swing open the heavy, wooden door to Mummer’s and catch it before it slams. I start walking toward the staircase when I hear a muffled noise. Someone is here. They weren’t here when I left so they must have come in while I was in the kitchen.  
   As quietly as I can, I call for my sword. Gripping both the sword and the tote bag tightly I advance forward. For a moment I maybe youconsidered putting down the scones but the noise would give me away and there was no way in hell was I going to lose a battle _and_ scones. Stealthily, I make my way around the pillar to find a figure hunched on the steps. They’re resting their elbows on their knees and their head is dropped in between their arms. From afar, the figure is wearing an ugly polka dotted shirt and dark pants. I don’t recognize them and I’m wary of anything I don’t recognize nowadays. Their face is concealed by the mask of darkness (and their hair falling in front of it). The closer I got the more detailed the figure become until “Baz?”


	2. Chapter Two Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one’s a little longer but idk man, guess you’ll have to read it to find out

**Baz**  
       I know Snow was attempting to be sneaky but it was obvious he’s here. I don’t even need my enhanced senses to know that. He opened the door like a maniac. He also breathes extremely loudly out of his mouth. _Mouth breather_. Once he realizes it’s just me sitting on the stairs he lowers his sword and lets it vanish away. In his other hand, he’s got a library tote bag. I scoff at it. The only time Snow would dare be seen in a library is if they’re giving away free scones.  
       “Yes, Snow. It’s me.” I say offhandedly and he just stares at me blankly.  
        “Why are you at Watford? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” He looks at me quizzically. The way one would look like when they’re trying to solve a puzzle that should be obvious but they can’t quite get it.  
I sneer at him and tilt my head back, “Wouldn't you like to know?” It’s the last thing I say before I momentarily black out.

  
**Simon**  
      Out of the blue, Baz passes out. _What the fuck?_ I move closer to him and notice that what I thought was just a really ugly polka dot pattern on his shirt are splotches of blood. That what I thought was his shadow is actually a puddle of blood. What the fuck. I put a hand on Baz’s shoulder and shake him. Probably harder than necessary. His head snaps up and he shrugs off my hand.  
     “Baz, what the fuck just happened to you.” It’s a question but I don’t ask it like one.  
     “What does it look like Snow? I passed out.” He retorts, but it’s weak and he’s swaying back and forth. _Fuck he’s going to die, isn’t he._  
      “Yeah I can see that, thanks. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” I can hear the pathetic strain in my voice. I clear my throat before saying. “Okay. I’m taking you to our room.” (No strain.) I hook my arm around his torso and sling his arm around my neck. He’s dead weight but I manage. We’re a few stairs up when I look behind us and see the trail of blood Baz is leaving. For obvious reasons I can’t clean it up the morning but I also can’t clean it up right now. I could use magic but that's rarely a good idea and especially not a good idea when I’m stressed. Thinking quickly back to when the dragon attacked, I force my magic into Baz. Right away he straightens his back and becomes more alert. “Baz I need you to first clean up your blood and then I need you to magick us upstairs, alright?” I order him.  
     “Huh?” He shakes his head a little, “Oh um, yeah okay. **Clean as a whistle** ,” the blood disappears, “ **Whisked away**!” He announces the second spell with such force I’m worried we might go through the roof. But we arrive on the landing at the end of the stairs safely in front of our door.

  
**Baz**  
    God, that felt amazing. Casting spells are always fun but when you’re plugged into the greatest energy source known to man the feeling is multiplied by ten. As soon as the world stops spinning and our feet touch the ground again, Snow pulls his magic away and suddenly I feel cold. I think the shock is too much for my body because I can feel myself slipping away. The last thing I see before I completely go are the contents of Snow’s bag. “I didn’t know libraries were open this late.” I can hear Snow say, “Baz, what the fu-oh my god!” as I finally pass out.


	3. Chapter Three and Simon is Slightly Frantic (I Mean, Wouldn’t You Be, Too?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok these chapters look a lot longer on google docs (maybe AO3 just hates me) but this one is longer I swear (also if you havent guessed already, the italics are *thoughts*). I apologize in advance for the second hand embarrassment (if you think it’s bad, I had to write it).

**Simon**  
      “Baz what the fu-oh my god!” Baz collapses and I barely catch him before he hits the ground. _Fuck. That means he’s in worse condition than I thought._ Now that I know how serious this is, I feel an immense pressure to not let Baz die. I know we’re supposed to fight to the death and this would make that easier, but I can’t do that to him. It feels like cheating. Plus, we’re on a truce.  
       Normally I’d just prick my finger to open the door but I can’t do that right now (too busy holding up Baz) and I’ve long forgotten the spell to unlock it. Instead, I grab Baz’s hand and touch it to the doorknob. Like the rest of him, it’s covered in blood. Mostly this is a test to see if this blood is his. I curse when I hear the lock click.   
      Hurriedly, I rush the both of us inside our room. I drop the tote bag by the door and continue on. Slamming the bathroom door open, I lower Baz into the bathtub. Now that I’ve put him down and he’s in good lighting I can fully assess the damage. It’s bad. His hair is a mess. It’s been matted down with a combination of blood and dirt. The blood’s turned the dirt into mud, though. “ _Blud_ ”. The blud mixture from his hair also seems to have gotten on the shoulders of his shirt. His shirt is riddled with small cuts surrounded by blood. (Not blud, just normal blood.) There’s a gigantic tear in the bottom right of his shirt and that one looks the worst. There’s the most blood surrounding that one. His pants are clean for the most part other than some mud on the knees and hem. Same goes for the shoes. A little muddy, but nothing a good cleaning can’t fix.   
     The blood pouring out of him gets all over the tub and the walls surrounding it. I sigh because that’s not going to be any fun to get off. The stone walls are going to be stained. Our bathroom is just a little more modern than the building itself. It has a toilet, a bathtub and shower, and a sink. Nothing fancy, but enough to function. It isn’t as gothic as the exterior by any means but the walls are ancient and the tub has little feet at the corners to hold it up. The mirror above the sink has the same style trimming as the tub around it, but it’s simple.

     When I start to examine him, I conclude that Baz’s face actually doesn’t have that many cuts on it. Only one on his right cheek, his chin, and above his left eyebrow. None of them are that deep, but the one on his cheek looks like it’s been bleeding for a while. I sigh because I've got my work cut (I laugh momentarily at my pun) out for me, haven't I?  
     I need to actually decide how much work needs to be done on the rest of him so I start to fumble with the buttons on Baz’s shirt. Finally, after much work, I manage to get the thing off of Baz. I throw it in the trash; it’s not worth salvaging. I’m sure Baz could save it using magic but Baz isn’t really available at the moment. So into the trash it goes.  
     The cut I was most concerned about is worse than I thought. It looks deep. Really deep. It also goes past his waist. _Damn, that means I’m taking off his trousers as well._ I was hoping that only what I saw was the extent of his injuries, but I guess not. I grumble to myself as I struggle with his shoes, then socks, then his trousers button and zipper. As I pull them off, a large streak of deep red is smeared on his leg. I must not have noticed the rather intense bleeding due to the jean’s (oh my god Baz is wearing jeans. I’ll have to come back to that later) dark color.   
     Whatever cut him also decided that it was going to cut his pants right in half. How does that even work? That makes literally no sense. But I decide against worrying about the logistics and I take them off as well. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually needed to anyway in order to examine the gash. Which is bleeding profusely, by the way. It spans from the top of his hip bone to his inner thigh. I don’t want to mess with it too much but from the looks of it, it’s very, very deep. All I know is that if I don’t do something soon, Baz is going to bleed out and die.

 **Baz**  
       My eyes snap open and suddenly I’m cold and in pain. Once my eyes adjust to the light, they make out the form of Snow crouched next to me with his arm on my bicep. Before I have time to register or say anything, he starts spewing words. “Oh! That actually worked! I had no idea if that would, but I’m glad it did.” He looks surprised and happy, but mostly surprised.  
     “Snow, what’s happening?” I stare at him. My voice is shaky and strained. When he sees that I’m coherent, he becomes extremely uncomfortable and I soon realize why (I also figure out why I’m so cold). I glance down to see my naked body lying covered in dirt and blood, in a bathtub.   
     “Well I need to close your wounds,” he starts, looking away, “but I don’t want to do the magic myself because I’m worried I’ll close your eyes or mouth or something forever and I didn’t even know that pushing my magic into you would work to wake you up and I probably should have asked this and tried this before taking your clothes off but I need you-“  
     “Snow,” I cut him off “you’re rambling. Stop. Now tell me in as few words as possible, what’s happening.” I try to keep my voice steadier and smooth but being in the current situation I’m in makes it difficult.  
      “You were bleeding a lot so I was going to dress your wounds. Then I realized I don’t trust my magic to close your cuts and that I’d probably kill you if I used a spell on you. So I tried to wake you up by doing that thing we did with the dragon. I guess it works.”  
       “Fine I’ll do it myself. What’s the spell to close the cuts?” I ask.  
       “ **We’re closed**.”   
       “Really? That’s the spell?” I say, incredulously.   
       “Yeah, I know it sounds stupid but the nurse and the Mage use it on me all the time. It works but we don’t have time to discuss the linguistic aspect of magical spells right now because you’re going to bleed out and die if you don't listen to me.”  
       “Then hand me my wand.”  
        He passes me my wand from where it’s been resting in my jean pocket. Gripping it tightly, I cast **We’re Closed**. Almost instantly I can feel relief throughout my body as my wounds heal themselves. The pain and redness is still there but it’s been drastically reduced. I sigh and slink a little lower in the tub. Snow breaks the tranquility quickly, though.  
       “Uh, Baz?” Snow asks as he rubs the back of his neck.   
       “Mm?” I look ahead.  
       “Could I…? God this sounds… would it be alright… fuck this is awkward.” he stutters.   
       “Spit it out, Snow.” I roll my eyes and let my head fall in his direction. I’m pretty sure the effect is lost due to the fact I’m naked. As if it’s any consolation, Snow looks more uncomfortable at my state of undress than I do.  
       “Can I take care of your cuts and shit!” He finally blurts out. “God! I mean we’re on a truce. I’m not going to kill you or anything…” He trails off. I just sigh and nod my slightly.   
       “Okay.” I honestly believe that if he doesn’t I might die of some poisoning or infection. The fact that he asked, though. Unexpected, but definitely not unwelcomed.  
        “Cool. Good. Okay. Cool.” (I’ve come to learn that Snow prefers either one-word sentences or never-ending ones when stressed) “Well. Okay. I’ve got to get stuff to do stuff to your cuts”.  
        “Very eloquent, Snow.”  
        “Shut up. I’m just letting you know because that means I have to let go and that means that you’re going to pass out and I didn’t want to spring that on you, okay?” He raises his eyebrows and looks at me expectantly.   
        “Oh”, that was actually kind of nice of him, “um, thanks?” He blushes a shade of pink.  
        “I’m going to let go now. See you later, I guess…?” Before I can fully pass out, I feel Snow press a very gentle kiss on my forehead.  
        “Simon, what?” Is all I can manage to choke out and then everything goes black again.

 **Simon**  
         I… I’m not sure why I did that. It just seemed like the right thing to do? I mean Baz was so vulnerable and I felt like a mother hen or something. At least he didn’t seem offended by it, just confused… I quickly push the thoughts out of my head, though. I have to focus. Baz might very well die if I don’t do what needs to be done and I’m contemplating my stupid actions.   
Hurriedly, I go downstairs to the floor below us. Everyone floor has a mini nurse’s office that has rudimentary supplies. It saves time and energy that trips to the nurse’s actual office would take. Since our floor isn’t technically a floor (it’s just our room), I’m forced to go downstairs. When I get to the nurse’s I pick the lock and frantically search for what I need. I actually have no idea what I need. I haven’t even examined his cuts. I have no idea if anything’s infected, if he has any bruises, broken bones… dammit, Simon. You literally gave yourself one job and you already fucked it up. Congrats. I grab one of the bins containing herbal teas and empty it out. I’ll clean it up later but now isn’t the time to worry about the nurse’s poor teas. I replace the teas with bandages, rubbing alcohol, some sort of healing paste, and a bunch of medicine for internal shit. The nurse has put a pencil holder on her desk but she’s filled it up with lollies. I take one for me and as a second thought also one for Baz. This is going to be fun.


	4. Chapter Four of the Chapter Dump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m super impatient I’m just chapter dumping everything at once. I’m only doing chapters because I prefer that format over the one long chapter format (makes it easier to stop reading when you find yourself awake at 3am because a fic you’re reading is trés long but it’s not chaptered). Anyway. (Another short one, sorry.) Chapter four!

**Simon**  
     When I get back to our room, I plop down next to the bathtub with a huff. Glancing at all the blood that’s pooled around Baz, I make the decision to get him food. He’s lost a lot of fluid, so it only makes sense to fill him up again. Maybe I just want to see him feed. Either way, I get up and go to the window in between our beds. Drawing my wand, I open the window and say, “ **Doe a deer!** ” Technically, that spell is supposed to be just for hunting and for deer, but it actually works with all animals (and this is also technically hunting, right?). A very large bird flies right through the window and into the room. I try to snatch it of the ground but since the bird is dazed it isn’t so hard. Looking away, I quickly snap its neck. I stare at the incredibly large bird. It will do. Satisfied with my supply run, I go back to Baz with the bird in hand.

 **Baz**  
      My eyes snap open and Snow is next to me again. This time he’s got a bin full of medical supplies with him and a bird. Snow’s hand is also gripping my arm again.  
      “Hey, I’m back. I’ve also got you some food.” He says, motioning to a bird.  
      “Snow, where the fuck did you find a dead bird,” I ask flatly.  
      “I summoned it. And, um, I killed it myself.” He looks a little proud, like a toddler showing their mother their artwork to hang on the fridge.  
      “Thanks?” I say questioningly. I’m not used to thanking Snow for anything, let alone helping me. Silently, he hands me that bird and I take it. “Snow, look away,” I order him.  
      “No way. This is too cool.” He laughs.  
      “No. It’s not. It’s better if you didn’t see this. Really.” It would be better. He wouldn’t be scarred for life.  
       He sighs, rolls his eyes, and turns away. I let my fangs pop out and I dig them into the bird. I drain the entire thing before letting go. When I look up from the bird, I realize that Snow has been watching the entire time. Glaring at him, I hand him the bird back.  
      “Wicked.” He whispers. I stop glaring and let out an exasperated sigh. Chuckling softly, Snow takes back the bird and says he’s going to leave for a minute. I nod and fall into darkness.

 **Simon**  
      That was so fucking cool. I know vampires are supposed to be dark creatures but that was cool. Baz told me to look away but I’m not a child. I might have to bring him another bird just so I can see him do it again. _What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s weird. Do you realize that?_ I open the window again and chuck the bird to the merwolves. One of them snaps it up before the bird even touches the water.

 **Baz**  
     “Baz? I’m going to need something from you.” Snow says as soon as he sees I’m awake.  
     “What?” I ask warily because, In my condition, I have no idea what Snow could possibly have me do. The only reason I’m even awake right now is because he’s feeding me his magic.  
     “I just need you to sit up a little bit. Hold your own weight. I can’t wash your hair and hold you up at the same time, you know.” He shrugs as if what he’s saying is normal. That these circumstances are normal. That Snow washing my hair is normal.  
    “Okay, is that all?” I ask. In my head, I pray it is.  
    “Yeah. I’m going to reduce the amount of magic I push into you though. Pushing this much into you constantly is draining.” He says.  
     “Alright, that’s fine.” Is all I say back.  
     “I’m also going to let go for a moment. I’ll be right back.” He adds.  
    “Sounds good.” Our conversations are short. That’s okay, I guess. Harder for me to mess up and accidentally proclaim my love this way.

  
**Simon**  
    For the second time in the span of one hour, I ignore my better judgment. I strip down to my pants and gently push Baz forward so I can sit behind him. I swing one leg over the edge of the bathtub and the other is resting on the ledge on the other side. It’s uncomfortable, but it makes it less awkward. Personally, I wouldn’t care if our legs had to touch that much but I doubt Baz would like that very much.  
    I have to hold him up with one hand, but to get the showerhead unhooked I need both hands. Carefully, I let him fall back against me so his head is resting on my shoulder. Even with all the blud in his hair, it’s still really fucking soft. _Of course it is. He’s Baz, for Merlin’s sake. God forbid his hair isn’t always in perfect condition_. Finally, I manage to unhook the showerhead. I let it swing next to us while I turn on the water. (Strangely) I’m reluctant to wake Baz up. He looks so soft in the position he’s in now. Eventually, I do place my hand on Baz’s arm and he blinks himself awake. I don’t push too much magic into him, so he’s a little groggy. If I’m being completely honest, it’s sort of endearing. Kind of like a puppy, I conclude. And, now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ve seen Baz wake up in a long time. He’s usually either out the door or at least awake when I wake up. My cheeks blush when I think about how intimate this really is, so I don’t think about it at all.


	5. *announcer voice* Ch-ch-chapter Five!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like these chapters were much longer when I originally wrote them but I guess not! Deception.

**Baz**  
       This time when I wake up, everything is fuzzy around the edges. Remembering what Snow had said earlier, I sit up. When I do, I feel an immense pain in my side and groan. My head reels and I grab it with one hand and steady myself against the bathtub with the other (I quickly pull back though because the porcelain is freezing and it’s too cold). Behind me, I hear a sharp intake of breath. Snow is sat behind me. That becomes obvious once I register Snow’s hand resting on my back. It feels warm where he’s touching me, like there’s a mini sun pulsing wherever his skin makes contact with mine.  
Once I've fully sat up, I feel the magic transfer from my back to the nape of my neck where his other hand now rests. I see his naked legs straddling (oh my god I just used the word straddle. Like some fucking romance novel) me and I instantly blush. _Damn him for bringing me something to feed on. Now he’s making me blush._  
      “Snow, are you wearing any clothes?” It’s a loaded question, but it had to be asked. There’s a pause, then, “Pants.” Another pause. “Baz, can you pass the shampoo?” He asks. Wordlessly I lift my arm and hand him the bottle. I can hear him struggle to open the bottle with one hand. His grunts are kind of funny. I almost giggle at the sounds coming from him.  
“Snow, do you have to transfer magic using your hands?” I ask, my voice so quiet I’m not entirely sure he heard it.  
       “I s’ppose not. Never tried it before you. I wouldn’t know.” I can hear his shrug. “Why?”  
       “I hear you struggling with the bottle,” I say matter of factly, “and I just figured there was a better way.” I look pointedly at his leg when I tell him, “Move your leg inside the bathtub and touch it to mine.” It’s a good thing Snow can’t see my face because I’m blushing very hard when I said that. I watch as Snow’s leg hesitantly makes its way to touch mine. He holds it right above mine, just barely touching. Almost instantly I feel the magic pulse from my thigh. Snow releases his hand from my neck and continues on with what he was doing. We fall into a comfortable silence. Snow hands work more gently than I ever thought possible of someone like him. It’s soothing. I feel Snow start to massage the shampoo in my hair and I honest to god almost purr. After some time, I close my eyes as I let Snow work the knots out of my hair. I know he’s finished when I hear him grunt when he reaches for the showerhead. I open my eyes to watch the mixture of blood and dirt wash over me.  
      “Is this too hot?” He asks, breaking the silence.  
      “No, feels nice,” I mumble back.  
      “You’ll tell me if it’s too hot?”  
      “Yeah.” I murmur. With that, Snow goes back to work. It takes a while but all the blood and dirt washes out and the water becomes clear again. He hands me the shampoo bottle and I trade him for the conditioner. He gingerly runs his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes again. It’s silent when I faintly hear something. Snow is humming very, very quietly. It’s a piece I recognize, but I’m not awake enough to know what it is or why I recognize it. I think I play it on the violin. I do that sometimes. Play my violin in our room. I used to do it to bug Snow but nowadays I do it because I think he enjoys it. He studies better when I play it and he calms down considerably.  
      Snow breaks the silence again when he asks, “Fuck Baz, how much conditioner do you use? I still can’t get this knot out…” I don’t think he was honestly expecting an answer because he just shorts of laughs when I tell him “a shit ton.” I hear him squirt more conditioner into his hands and continue humming. He just keeps running his fingers through my hair. Snow’s hands are tugging just slightly on my hair and god, is it doing things to me. If I was any more awake than I am now I’m pretty sure my body would be having a very inappropriate reaction. I open my eyes again when I feel Snow grab the showerhead. I look down at our legs. Snow must’ve forgotten himself or something because he’s completely relaxed his leg against mine. Due to the tub’s size, our legs are pressed closely together. I can feel the steady stream of warm magic where his leg touches mine at the thigh and again at the knee. _How did he get so relaxed with me? Is it because he thinks I’m vulnerable and won’t hurt him (not that I would anyway)? Is it because he thinks he’s vulnerable and I won’t hurt him because of that (again, not that I’d ever want to hurt him anyway)?_ I realize I must’ve been staring for too long because Snow jerks his legs away so we’re back to barely touching. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I cut him off before he can say anymore.  
    “It’s fine. I actually… like it?” I say slowly, trying to gauge his response.  
    “Oh, okay. That’s fine with me. Just wasn’t sure it was with you.” He mutters as he lets his legs fall back against mine. It’s a good thing my legs didn’t get to bloody because then Snow would be covered in blood and I know for a fact that I wouldn’t be able to control what happens if Snow were to bathe. I force myself to stop thinking about that situation and close my eyes again. I focus on the heat as Snow washes out the conditioner. My eyes are still closed when I hear the tap creak and the water stop flowing. “Baz?” Snow whispers. “Baz? I need to ask a question. But I need you to be fully awake, okay? So that means I’m going to supercharge you with my magic for a moment. It’s going to be really quick.” I nod in response to let him know I heard him. As promised, I feel a sudden surge of energy and I become fully aware. “Okay, I have a question for you…” he trails off. I can hear the awkwardness he feels.  
   “Mm? What is it?” I ask him gently, as not to scare him off.  
   “I've just finished with your hair, but the rest of you is still filthy.”  
   “Thanks.” I snort  
   “No, that’s not what I meant, and anyway I wasn’t done. I was going to say, do you want to be awake for that? Washing the rest of you, I mean.” He says.  
   “That’s alright. I don’t need to be.” In reality, I don’t think I could be. If I could barely handle the hair, I would die if I watched as Simon bloody Snow washed my body. When I tell him that I don’t need to be awake, I can both hear and feel the relief come from his body.  
   “Okay, then, in that case, goodnight? Is that the right thing to say? Probably not. Oh well. Goodnight, Baz.” Snow says and, surprising me and leaving me to question again, he kisses the back of my neck and cuts off the magic.


	6. Chapter Six is Upon Us!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I think that secretly google docs has been deleting part of my story to make it shorter and the chapters shorter. That’s my conspiracy, if you think theres something greater at work, let me know and we can band together to stop this chapter-shortening monster! Also I know I said I was doing a chapter dump but formatting it on this website on an iPad is a pain in the butt and it’s annoying and I’m tired so more tomorrow or at least soon.

**Simon**  
      Washing Baz’s hair was without a doubt, one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had. The entire time I was expecting him to snap or yell at me for doing something wrong. But he didn’t. In fact, he said he liked it. Liked the touch. _He said he liked it, Simon. Liked you touching him and him touching you. And you liked it, too. I know you did_. It was surreal and calming and almost cathartic. I even started humming. I only have ever hummed by myself or around Penny. She says that I’m like a cat in that way. I only do it when I feel safe. Like a cat closing its eyes. _Does that mean Baz made me feel safe? Because that makes no fucking sense._ Not only did I start humming, I started humming that piece that Baz always plays on the violin. It’s my favorite. He plays it more often nowadays. I like to think it’s because he thinks I hate it. I know that’s not actually why. In reality, I love it when Baz plays the violin. Not that I’d ever tell him that, of course. No need to inflate his ego more than it already is.  
      Shaking my head lightly, I bring myself back to the real world. I climb out of the tub, careful not to let Baz drop against it. I opt to use a washcloth instead of the showerhead to wash the rest of him. I open the cabinets beneath the sink to search for something to wash him with. I find a cloth and grab it. I run it under the water from the sink before dropping back down next to Baz. Starting at his face, I softy dab at his cuts. All of them are closed, but the pain is still there, I can tell. His muscles are still tense and the skin is still irritated. Most of the blood comes off easily, but I have to scrub a little harder to get rid of the blood that’s dried. Since his face was mostly untouched, I finish that quickly and move on. Thank god, his neck was untouched; a neck wound could’ve been fatal. His torso and arms seem to have gotten it the worst. I clean around his cuts but I decide to leave the big one for last. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s like saving the best for last. But it’s not really the best. I don’t know why.  
     I finish his torso after a little longer than it took to clean his face. Before moving to his legs I move to his arms. They aren’t too banged up, but his hands are bloody. _Probably from trying to hold in his blood or something. No. Don’t think that way. He’s going to be fine. Fine._ Fine. I’m not sure either of us knows what “fine” means anymore. I sigh heavily as I scrub the blood from his hands away. They aren’t cut, so I know that all that blood came from somewhere else. Most likely the huge cut. I sigh again and let the hand I just finished cleaning drop.  
     His legs aren’t very bloody, just dirty. Before continuing, I go to wash the cloth off a little. In the state it’s in, it would be doing more harm than it would help. The mirror above the sink is kind of foggy, but I can still see my reflection. On my collarbone, there's a smudge of deep red. Baz must have gotten it there when he rested his head against me. I wipe it away slowly with the rag. Even slower, I turn on the tap and rinse the blood and dirt away from the rag. Watching the reddish brown water go down the drain is mesmerizing and I lose myself for a moment. Snapping back to reality, I crouch back next Baz’s legs and start to clean them. Letting my thoughts wander, I realize that Baz has really nice legs. _Probably from playing football_. They’re pretty well defined but they're not super beefy. _What’s wrong with you? Stop analyzing Baz’s legs, perv._ Without thinking (that seems to be tonight’s theme), I lean forward and place a feather-light kiss on the top of his knee. I don’t know why (another theme).  
     Finished with the rest of him, I circle back to the giant gash on his right side. As I wipe away more blood, I realize just how bad this cut was. It’s already scarred, and it’s permanent. The cut goes into his inner thigh, and that makes for a very awkward few moments. With all the of the blood on his skin gone, I can see that there’s more damage than I thought. The external blood masked it well, but with it gone I can see that Baz has some intense internal bleeding. _And everything was going so well. Now he’s going to die from internal bleeding because I was moving at a leisurely pace and it will be all my fault and god_! I’ve got to stop rambling.  
   I throw the rag down in the tub. Frantically, I search for the container of medicine that treats internal bleeding. It’s magical, of course. No Normal medicine can work that well and that quickly. Finally, I find it. I recognize, having drunk from it enough times to know it when I see it.

 **Baz**  
    This time when I wake up, instead of Snow thrusting a bird in my face, he’s thrusting a shot glass sized cup of pearlescent liquid. He’s also gripping my arm quite tightly.  
    “Here, drink this. It’s going to taste like shit and I know there’s a lot, but you have to drink it.” He says, pushing the glass further into my face. I take it and lift the glass to my lips. I take a sip, but immediately spit it out.  
   “Bloody hell! Fuck! That is literally the worst thing I’ve ever drunk! God!” I let out a long string of expletives.  
   “Baz, I know it tastes like Merlin balls but you have some really bad internal bleeding so unless you want to die, I suggest you drink it.” Snow says sternly. I just glare at him. I try to adjust in order to sit up, but it hurts and I groan loudly. Snow’s grip on my arm tightens. With my free hand, I try to pry his fingers off.  
   “Snow, your hand…” I complain and screw up my face because I think he might actually cut off my circulation. Instead of releasing his grip, he intertwines our fingers so we’re holding hands. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. I don’t mention it, but I do make a mental note of what this feels like. Holding hands. With Simon bloody Snow.  
When he sees my resentment with the drink, he starts to chant, “We love to drink with Bazzy, ‘cause Bazzy is our mate, and when we drink with Bazzy, he gets it down in eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!” He says one just as I finish off the disgusting medicine.  
   “Bazzy?” I raise an eyebrow at him.  
He blushes a little when he says, “It needs to be two syllables to fit the song, so…”  
   “If you call me Bazzy ever again, I swear to god Snow,” I say, with fake menace in my voice.  
   “Yeah well, I’ll keep calling you Bazzy until you call me Simon.” He crosses his arms, dragging my hand with his, and I notice that he hasn’t bothered to get dressed.  
   “I guess Bazzy is my new name, then.” It wouldn’t be too bad, right? Like a pet name.  
   “You’ve called me Simon before.” Snow says softly.  
   “No, I didn’t,” I say defiantly.  
   “You did. Right after I…” he trails off after he realizes what he was about to say. _After he kissed my forehead_. Snow clears his throat and but doesn’t finish his sentence. He looks away and I do, too. “Um, well, you’re clean now.” Snow says, still looking away.  
   “Thank you. For that,” I say quietly. I think that if I talk too loud, I might break him, he looks that fragile.  
   “Sure. No problem…” he trails off again as if he wanted to say something but then thought better of it. “I’m. I’m letting go now.” He looks down at our hands holding the others. He actually seems a little taken aback. I guess he really didn’t realize it. But he doesn’t look uncomfortable, just… sad? Confused? A negative emotion, but not negative towards me. _A step in the right direction, right?_


	7. Chapter Seven For the Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK from this point on I kinda haven't read it over at all so it is what it is but it's a little more unedited... oops...

**Simon**  
      Holding hands with Baz wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t even remotely bad. I wasn’t aware of my decision at the time, but I don't think I go back and change it. Baz’s hand was warm and his fingertips were rough from playing the violin. Not callused, not yet.   
      Everything was going fine. Then I had to bring up that stupid thing I did. I’m still not sure why I kissed his forehead. I kissed his neck, too. And his knee. God. I’m a mess. And I don’t know why I did it. I grumble to myself as I wash off the rag again, struggling to get it clean. Frustrated, I throw it down into the sink. Feeling defeated (by a rag, nonetheless), I slump down against the sink cabinets. I turn my head to look at Baz. His head is leaning on his shoulder and his mouth is open. _I should probably get him out of the tub. Get him dressed. Get me dressed. Get both of us dressed._ I push myself off the ground and pick Baz up bridal style. I swing the door open with my foot and walk into our room.  
      I put Baz down on his bed. His hair is still wet so I grab a dry towel and place it under his head. Baz’s dresser is right next to his bed, but when I try to open one of the drawers, it shocks me. Rubbing my hand, I move closer to the dresser and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with magic. Fucker spelled it shut. Now I can’t get any of his clothes out even if I used a crowbar. Sighing for what must be for the hundredth time, I cross the room to my dresser. Baz is taller than me, but my shoulders are broader. None of my clothes would fit him right. The only things I have that might work are a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Technically, the sweatshirt isn’t even mine; it’s one of Agatha’s lacrosse hoodies. My “enemy” wearing my ex-girlfriend’s hoodie. I snicker at the idea. Deciding that is the best I’m going to get, I grab the clothes. I guess I could wash them after, but I opt to not lend Baz any underwear. _That’s just too much._   
     Dressing him is much easier than undressing him was. It might be the lack of buttons. _It’s probably the lack of buttons_. The only real struggle is trying to pull the sweatpants up while also holding Baz off the bed in order to pull the sweatpants up. It’s kind of like dressing a baby or a toddler, I’d imagine.   
      It’s weird to see Baz is such casual clothing. He’s always wearing suits or at least a button up shirt. Even his pajamas are fancy. Everything about Baz is fancy. Not right now, though. His hair isn’t slicked back, so it falls freely around his face. He looks so at peace. I know he’s unconscious and not actually asleep, but the effect is the same. I turn him so he’s laying on his side. I sit next to him on the edge of the bed. As if it were no big deal, I reach out to pet his hair. Like when I was washing it, I run my fingers through his hair. _He’s actually really pretty_. I sit there for a while. How long I don’t know. It might’ve been two minutes, it might’ve been an hour.   
     Eventually, I do get up and put on pajama bottoms. I check the clock on my nightstand. It reads two am. Running my hand through my hair I sit on my bed. I’m facing Baz. This is the first time in a while I haven’t been paranoid when going to sleep. Baz is here. I can see him, what he’s doing. _He’s unconscious, he can't do anything, dumbass._ But he’s unconscious here. With me. Where I can keep an eye on him to keep him safe. Not to keep an eye on him because I’m worried about what he might be plotting. It’s a nice change of pace.   
     I swing my legs onto my bed and lay there staring at the ceiling trying not to think. Despite my efforts, my mind keeps going over what happened. _You kissed him three times. And out of your own accord, too_. I can't stop thinking about it so, naturally, I can’t fall asleep. I turn my head to look at Baz. He isn’t under the covers and he’s shivering. Without a second thought, I hop out of my bed and walk over to his. With some good maneuvering, I manage to get Baz under the blankets. There I make a decision. I’m not going to think about anything. And so, with my new decree, I go to the other side of the bed and slid in. I press my chest against Baz’s back as close as I can and wrap my arms tightly around him. Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead on the spot where his neck meets his back. I breathe in deeply. His sheets are the same as mine but they feel softer and they smell of him. Of cedar and bergamot. I only know those are the words to describe what Baz smells like because I’ve read the labels on his posh shower stuff. With my face pressed so close to his head, the smell is amplified. It’s almost overwhelming, but not quite. Actually, it’s pleasant. Everything about this is pleasant. Everything about Baz is pleasant. His breathing is comforting and I fall asleep faster than I have in eighteen years.


	8. It's Chapter Eight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs consistency in chapter length? Not me!

**Baz**  
      I wake up and I feel warm. I blink my eyes open and my surroundings become clear. I’m in my bed. At Watford. Not at home. _Why are you_ at _Watford?_ Suddenly everything comes flooding back to me. Getting royally fucked up, coming back to Watford, and oh god. Snow taking care of me. That’s when I notice his arms wrapped around me. His face is pressed against the skin on my neck and I can feel his soft, warm breaths. He hasn’t woken up yet and I don’t plan on waking him up. I’m going to make this last as long as I can.   
     Unfortunately, it doesn’t last as long as I would’ve liked. I hear and feel Snow shifting behind. He draws his hands back and I turn to face him. Groggily, he rubs his eyes and yawns.   
     “That’s the best sleep I’ve had in awhile.” He says sheepishly while stretching his arms. I catch a glimpse of his face and it’s obvious he’s blushing very hard. I would be too if I had drained another bird last night. He sits up and I follow suit.   
     “Snow…” I take a deep breath, “thanks for making sure I didn’t die.”  
     “Yeah, sure. It wasn’t a problem. Uh, I’ve still got a bunch of scones from last night. Want them for breakfast?” Snow looks at me somewhat hopefully as he motions towards the bag near the door.  
     “Alright. I can heat them up.” I say. I’m about to get out of bed and get them when Snow puts a hand on my chest to stop me.   
     “I’ll get them. You’re probably still too weak.”   
     “Is that an insult, Snow?” I joke. He just rolls his eyes. When he walks to the door it gives me a good chance to get a good look at him. He's wearing different trousers than normal. Quickly I realize that’s because I’m wearing them. I’m also wearing Agatha’s lacrosse sweatshirt. My crush’s ex’s sweatshirt. But more importantly, I’m wearing Simon Snow’s clothing. They smell clinical and sterile (because Snow insists on using the provided shampoo and conditioner) but underneath they smell like him. Like fire and smoke and ash and warmth. He was right, I am weak because I melt just a little.   
     Snow has the bag and sits cross-legged on the bed. He’s about to dump them onto the bed but I scold him before he can. As much as I love him, I would never let him get crumbs all over my bed.   
     “You’re such a drama queen, Baz.” He shakes his head lightly as he heads to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel and puts it on the bed. Once he’s laid all the scones on the bed, I cast **You’re getting warmer**. Steam starts to rise from them and honestly, they look amazing. My stomach grumbles and Snow laughs. When he laughs he throws his head back and clutches his stomach. It’s a strong, hearty laugh and it’s contagious. I giggle a little.  
     “Is the brooding and mysterious Basilton Grimm-Pitch giggling?” Snow asks, mocking surprise.  
     “No, I don’t giggle,” I say proudly.  
     “I’m a thousand percent sure I just heard you giggling.”   
     “I didn’t.”  
     “You did.”  
     “I already told you, Snow. Pitches don’t-MPF!” My sentence is abruptly cut off when Snow shoves a scone in my mouth. My reaction just makes Snow laugh harder and he flops backward in a fit of laughter. I take the scone out of my mouth and take a bite all while glaring holes into Snow’s head. He sits up on his elbows and looks at me strangely. Not bad strange, I don’t think.   
     Without a word, Snow shoves me over a little and slides under the covers with me. He shuffles so his side is pressed right against mine. He takes my free hand, the one pressed up against him, in his. Snow doesn’t make a comment or any other sign to show that he’s aware of what he’s doing. He just grabs a scone and starts to eat it.   
    “Snow, you’re getting crumbs all over my bed. And your chin. Is this how you really eat?” I ask, my eyebrow quirked.  
    “I am not getting crumbs all over, and yes. This is how I eat, and if you have a problem with it I can just keep these scones to myself.” He makes a motion to grab the scones, but I steal them away first.  
    “You can't keep what you don’t have, Snow.” _Wow, that hits a little close to home, don’t you think?_ Snow is considerably shorter than me, even sitting in bed so I hold them above his head. He grapples for them for a moment before standing on the bed to get them. Git. After taking a scone, he flops back onto the bed and resumes our previous position. Hand holding and all.  
     He looks me straight in the eyes and takes a huge bit of scone. Crumbs fly everywhere and stick to his chin. I know he did that on purpose, to get me riled up. Maybe this truce is too weird for him; he needs to be fighting with me. I don’t want to think about that, so I don’t.   
      I lift my free hand and wipe away crumbs on his chin with my thumb. He tries to squirm away like a toddler, but I hold his chin. Almost instantly, he stops squirming and lets me get rid of the remaining food.  
    “See? That wasn’t too bad, right? Being clean is easy.” I scold him gently and tilt my head towards him. He doesn’t respond. He just looks at me silently, serious all of the sudden.  
    “Baz, what happened last night? Why were you so hurt?” He holds my gaze.  
     I sigh, “Do we have to do this now?”  
   “No.”  
   “Good.”  
   “But we will talk about it?”  
    Sigh. “Yeah. Sure.”  
    “Okay.” He faces forward and rests his head on my shoulder. I don’t know if any of this is weird for him, but it’s weird for me. It’s not a weird where I want it to end, but it’s weird. Different. I’m not on edge around him. Both of us are more relaxed around each other than we have been, ever. For once, our silence isn’t awkward but rather comfortable. It’s nice. So I let him rest his head on me. I let him fall asleep on me. I let myself fall asleep, too. 


	9. Gents, Gals, and Non-Binary Pals, We Have Reached the End, aka Chapter Nine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got more attention than I thought it ever would within the first 24 HOURS so thank you all v much for boosting my confidence and all that... but! Unfortunately, we have reached the end. Also I'm not sure why there's more space between paragraphs in this chapter... I tried changing it but it wouldn't go away so oh well. Until next time, thanks!! (and if you have any good prompt recs let me know in the comments bc writing this was so fun!)

**Simon**

     I like this new thing with Baz. Neither of us pretend like we hate the other. He let me fall asleep on him. That never would’ve happened in the past. But here it is, happening. It’s almost surreal. A good surreal. Like the first time I ever saw a unicorn. I didn’t think that they were real (or possible), but it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Baz is a close second.

     When I wake up, my head is nestled comfortably in the crook of Baz’s neck. It’s warm and the skin there is soft. I want to kiss him there. I want to see the reaction it’ll elicit from him. I pick my head up and look at his sleeping face. It looks different than from when he was merely unconscious. His muscles are more relaxed and he looks calm for real. I’m still staring at him when he opens his eyes.

    “Can I kiss you?”

 

**Baz**

    I’m still dreaming. I didn’t actually wake up. I pinch my arm and Snow laughs but quickly goes quiet.

    “Baz?” He asks, worried he’d crossed a line. I don’t respond to him verbally but give the slightest nod. As if pressing a trigger, Snow closes the very little remaining distance between our mouths. At first, it’s sloppy and awful. Our teeth scrape against another and it makes me want to recoil. But we get our shit together and his tongue presses on mine and then it becomes the most amazing thing. I guess it could be the worst kiss ever, I wouldn’t know. _Simon Snow is your first kiss. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life._

    Snow’s the first to break away. He presses his forehead to mine (with some struggle because he is shorter).

    “I’m gay,” I whisper. Snow gives a light chuckle.

    “Yeah, I kinda collected.”

    “No, I mean, well first off I don’t have to be gay to like you. Second, I meant that’s why I was fucked up last night.” I explain. Snow doesn't say anything, prompting me to say more. “My father found out I was gay. I mean I told him, so it’s kind of my fault but he found out. He said that there was no room in the Grimm-Pitch household for a gay son. To come back when I had realized this was just a phase. I know it’s not a phase. I’ve been in love with you since first year,” _Fuck._ I didn't mean to say that; it just came out but Snow doesn’t say anything to that so I press on, “Anyway I left. I went to the city and got shit-faced. Got into a stupid fight. I was outnumbered and it’s not like I could’ve used magic. We were in public with Normals everywhere. Watford was the only place I had to go back to. Then you found me, slowly bleeding out on the steps.” I finish my story with a sigh.

   “You love me?” Snow asks slowly. I say nothing. “Then why were you always such a fucking asshole.” He demands with mirth detectable in his voice.

   “Hating you was easier than loving you,” I say simply and with a shrug. Snow just sighs, then shakes his head, then laughs.

   “Only you, Baz. Only you could make that seem logical.” He laughs. I laugh a little, too. Once we’ve both calmed down, he looks at me and says, “Can we go back to sleep now?”

   “Sleep the day away?” I ask accusingly.

   “I know you hate it, but I don’t care. I’m tired. Taking care of you was hard. You’re like a giant baby.” He huffs. He crosses his arms, letting go of my hand.

  “But a beautiful baby.” I supply him as I kiss the top of his head, right where he kissed me only so long ago.

  “A beautiful baby,” He agrees.

 

**Simon**

     I thought I liked this new dynamic. Turns out I love it. I love Baz. That’s weird to admit. I mean I always thought he was pretty, but not in an “I want to snog you” way. It’s not even that I have a problem because he’s a guy, it’s just weird because he’s Baz. Baz. I love Baz.

    We’ve adjusted so Baz has his arms wrapped around me. _The exact opposite of last night. Now he’s holding you_. I laugh a little at how “teenage, boy crazy girl” that sounds. But his arms around me feel protective and safe and I forget about being a teenage, boy crazy girl. Baz’s breathing slows and I assume he’s fallen asleep so I take this opportunity to profess my love. “I love you, Baz,” I say quietly.

   “I know.” He says back and I squeak when he presses a kiss to the back of my head. That doesn’t bother me like I ever thought something like that would.

   “I like this better than fighting,” I confess.

   “I do, too.”


End file.
